The Lesson

When I was 12 or 13 years old, I had a semi-regular habit of sneaking out of the house late at night to take long bike rides around the area. I would crawl out the second-story window to the roof, slide down the television antennae pole, and then spend hours exploring, thinking, and escaping whatever it was that I was running from at that time in my life.

This was about the time my grandfather passed away. As a keepsake, I received a small case of military decorations. Not medals, but those colored bars that officers would wear on their breast pockets. I didn't really know what any of them were for, but I liked the way they looked on the front of my well-worn denim jacket.

One night after riding around the woods behind Craig Field I stepped in the door to Dunkin' Donuts, all ready to spend the quarters in my pocket on a Styrofoam cup loaded with coffee and sugar. The place - as it usually was at that hour - was scattered with cops and transients. Even though it was probably out of the ordinary to see a little kid in there, I found that I was usually ignored.

Or at least, I was before that evening.

He sat near the register, beard and eyebrows pepperd with red and gray. His head was bent over his shoulders, and he cupped a steaming drink with both hands. I ordered, paid, and waited - trying hard not to notice his attention turning to me.

     "Where did you get those?" he asked sharply.

I told them they were my grandfathers, hoping that would be the end of it.

     "Did you earn them, Do you know what they mean?"

More eyes turned to me, and I began to feel a little frightened. He repeated the question, jabbing a finger at my chest as he spoke. I told him again that they were my grandfathers. He looked at me for what seemed an endless collection of seconds, and then, leaning in close, he spoke to me in a push of foul breath and anger.

     "Those belong on a uniform. Take them off... Now. "

I stammered out something about not meaning any disrespect, but it was clear he was done talking. He turned back to his cup with a dismissive sigh, and left me there - more 12 than I'd ever been. I sat down at the table and worked at the clasps. A moment later they were all in my pocket.

    It never took that long to ride home ever again.